


Stutter

by JetpacksAndRollerblades



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, I promise, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Self-Esteem Issues, Stuttering, and if this isn't how stutters work than just kill me twice with a rusty knife ok thank you, enjolras isn't cruel or a dick they're both just confused, i'm sorry if Grantaire seems ooc at the middle to endish part just kill me ok, joly and grantaire being bros matters to me idk shut up, this is just self-fulfilling ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetpacksAndRollerblades/pseuds/JetpacksAndRollerblades
Summary: Grantaire lets his best friend and flatmate Joly drag him out to a social justice meeting with no intention of going to more than the one meeting, but that was before he set eyes on the groups angelic leader, Enjolras and falls in love. Enjolras, however, seems to despise Grantaire. Grantaire goes to Enjolras to offer to help on a project, but Enjolras mocks him, imitating his stutter and telling Grantaire how worthless he is as a member of the group. With the help of Joly and some good old fashioned communication, can they manage to get their differences sorted out?





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in the fandom and i haven't read the whole book so pls don't kill me.  
> (i've seen the broadway show though, so yeah, you're allowed to be jealous)  
> sorry ignore me just read the story

Grantaire only went to the meeting to get his roommate Joly to shut up about it. Joly'd been egging him on, nagging him, and trying to convince him to come to one of their dumb “Lets Change the World” meetings for a few weeks, and much to Joly's delight (“Oh, R, this is gonna be GREAT!”), Grantaire eventually caved. He figured he could at least go to one, suffer through the painful naivety and idealism for an hour or two, and then kindly but firmly tell Joly that “I'm really sorry, but it's just not my thing. At all.”

The meetings were held in the upstairs of a local café, the Café Musain. The room wasn't too large or too small, and there was a large table in the center with lots of mismatched chairs set out around it. A few people were already sitting down around the table, and a few others were standing and chatting with one other. Grantaire couldn't place any of them by name (except for Bossuet and Musichetta, of course, who grinned at him and gave him a friendly wave, respectively), but he recognized a few of them from the photos that Joly had around their flat.

He and Joly sat down at the table next to where Joly's boyfriend and girlfriend were already sitting and made idle chatter while waiting for the meeting to start. Grantaire still wasn't looking forward to the meeting, but sitting with his three friends helped him feel like he might be able to have a good time. His stutter, which always became more pronounced in new or uncomfortable situations, was almost completely unnoticeable, which Grantaire was pretty proud of.

“So, uh, what are we w-waiting for?” Grantaire asked, after they'd been sitting and chatting for a while. A lot of the other students had sat down at the table, and the meeting seemed like it could be starting. Grantaire wasn't sure what the hold up was.

“Oh, Enjolras will be here any minute now, don't worry,” Bossuet assured him.

Musichetta seemed to notice the fact that Grantaire was still approximately just as confused as he was before Bossuet's answer, so she added softly, “He leads the meetings.”

“But don't let him catch you calling him a 'leader'!” a cheerful looking young man with curly hair and dimples said, plopping himself down in the seat to the right of Grantaire, “This is the democraciest democracy you'll ever see. No one leads and no one follows, we're all equal and everything's cool as can be.” The stranger then leaned in a bit closer to Grantaire and stage whispered, “He's totally in charge though, if I'm completely honest.”

Musichetta, who had witnessed the stranger's small speech hid her face behind her hand and laughed softly, before saying, “Courf, don't be like that, you've got to cut Enjolras some slack every once in a while.”

The stranger, (“Courf?”) just grinned in response. Grantaire was about to introduce himself to this new potential friend, but was struck completely speechless when a literal angel walked in the door.

No one else seemed to be surprised by the entrance of this celestial being, in fact, they seemed to be expecting him. “Ah, there he is now,” Bossuet said, maybe to himself, or maybe for Grantaire's benefit, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered anyways; Grantaire wasn't paying attention to anything that was going on in the room other than the graceful strides that this angel, this god, this glorious Apollo took to get to the front of the room.

His hair was long and flowing freely as he moved, his skin dark and without imperfections, his eyes the same deep blue as the cloudless sky on a crisp autumn afternoon, his red jacket swishing behind him as he walked. Then he began to speak, and Grantaire fell in love.

If he was totally honest, he didn't really pay much attention to the content of the meeting. He'd spent the entire time watching Enjolras (because that was who this beautiful man must be, Grantaire figured) as he spoke, how animated he was, how passionate he sounded, and how crisp, clear, and utterly perfect his voice was as it carried across the table from Enjolras's gorgeous lips and into Grantaire's undeserving ears.

So when Joly asked him what he thought about the meeting on their way back home, Grantaire shrugged. “It wasn't as bad as I th-thought it would be, I g-guess.”

“Do you wanna go back next time?” Joly asked, hopefully.

“Sure, wh-why not?” he asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes and smiling a little.

Joly seemed happy enough with that answer, and gave him a frankly adorable triumphant grin in response.

 

○○○

 

Grantaire did more than just come back next time, he started to go to every meeting that the group held, even ones that Joly himself couldn't make it to since he was home sick. He didn't feel exactly like he was part of the group, per se, but he didn't feel like an outsider anymore either. Over the meetings that he'd gone so far, he'd met and had a conversation with every member of “Les Amis” (as they called themselves). Well, everyone except for Enjolras, of course.

Grantaire wasn't purposefully avoiding conversations with the man, in fact, he would've loved to talk to him and introduce himself properly. Enjolras, however, seemed to be busy all of the time, and never seemed to spare a second thought to Grantaire, the resident cynic, who had begun to develop the habit of saying little jokes and pessimistic things out loud in some of the meetings to make the other members of the group laugh and to lighten the serious mood a little.

Most of the members seemed to like him and his jokes, welcoming him into their group with smiles and laughter and bottles of beer. Enjolras, on the other hand, never looked upon him with anything other than disdain and disgust. Grantaire tried his best not to let it bother him.

 

○○○

 

One day, during a meeting, Enjolras brought up the fact that they needed someone to make fliers to hand out and hang around the city in order to publicize their next big protest. “We don't have time to talk about it now, but anyone who is interested in designing them should speak to me privately after the meeting has adjourned,” he said.

“You should do it, R,” Joly whispered to him, “You're a great artist, and it might be a good way to finally introduce yourself to Enjolras.”

For the rest of the meeting, Grantaire held a vicious debate inside of his head on whether he should go and talk to Enjolras after the meeting or not. In the end, he decided he technically didn't have anything to lose, seeing as Enjolras already seemed to hate him, so he might as well go for it.

When the meeting ended, Joly turned excitedly to Grantaire. “So are you gonna do it?” He asked.

“Well at least I'm g-going to try,” he said, as he stood up to walk across the room.

“Good luck!” Joly said, giving him a reassuring grin.

“Go get 'im, dude!” Bossuet added in a whisper-shout, his hands cupped around his mouth.

Grantaire smiled at the pair of them before steeling himself and walking around the table to where Enjolras was standing up and gathering his papers. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought to himself.

“H-hey, um, Enjolras?” he asked. Enjolras turned to face to Grantaire, raising his eyebrows and frowning slightly once he realized who it was that had addressed him.

“What do you w-want, G-grantaire?” he asked in a frustrated voice. And was that a stutter?

But Enjolras _never_ stuttered. That would make no sense at all. Grantaire shook his head and plowed on, figuring he must have been hearing things, “I w-was just g-going t-to offer t-to design s-some f-fliers? For the p-protest? I d-don't know if you kn-knew, but I'm a-actually an art student at–”

“Yes, s-sure, fine, you can d-design some fliers!” Enjolras practically snarled, cutting Grantaire off, and no, Grantaire wasn't mistaken before, Enjolras was definitely speaking with a stutter. Why would Enjolras all of a sudden have a stutter? Grantaire heard Enjolras speak at every meeting, and he had never so much as slightly stumbled over his words before. Why would he start now? Unless he was– no, even Enjolras couldn't be that cruel. He was all for equality and treating everyone with respect. He would never make fun of someone with a speech impediment.

Well, maybe he would, if that person was as stupid and useless as Grantaire. Enjolras always made it clear how much he didn't like having Grantaire at the meetings, maybe he figured this might be a good way to get him to finally stop coming.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras prompted, his face a portrait of confusion and distaste. Grantaire must have been silent for too long. He tried to even his breathing and calm himself down. It didn't matter if Enjolras hated him. He was worth nothing anyways. He deserved to be mocked. He should be thanking him for deigning to speak to him at all. Or something.

“Sorry, Apollo, I w-was just spaced out for a s-second there, wh-what did you s-say?” Grantaire said, slipping back into a lopsided smile.

“I _s-said_ that you can d-design the fliers if you want. It would b-be good for you to f-finally amount to something in this g-group instead of just being useless and d-disruptive like you always have been. Maybe this could be a t-test of some sort. To s-see if we can trust you to do anything useful at all.” Enjolras said, bitterly, as if he didn't believe that Grantaire would be able to do it anyways. As if he didn't believe that Grantaire was worth anything at all.

Trying his best to ignore the crushing feelings of sadness and worthlessness constricting inside his chest, Grantaire managed to wrangle the most playfully winning smile he could muster, and winked at Enjolras, telling him, “You w-won't be let down!” before leaving the Musain as quickly as possible and heading back to his flat to lock himself in his room and drink himself into a stupor.

 

○○○

 

When Joly got home later that night he found Grantaire curled up and crying on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, an empty whiskey bottle held loosely in one hand. He took the bottle out of his hands and helped him stand up, holding him softly and gently and whispering quiet words of comfort to his friend as he helped him take his stumbling journey from the bathroom to Grantaire's own bedroom. He then lay him down on the bed and gave him a kiss on the top of his hair, and a promise that he'd be right in the room next door if Grantaire needed him.

Very soon after Joly left his room, Grantaire fell asleep.

 

○○○

 

Grantaire awoke the next day to the blinding light of the sun streaming ruthlessly through his window and a skull-splitting headache. He groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to notice the glass of water and tablets of Aspirin laying on his bedside table.

Grantaire took the medicine and drank the water, and was about to curl himself back under his covers, but he noticed a small handwritten note sitting next to where the glass had been placed. It was from Joly, of course.

 

_Good morning, Grantaire!_

_I know you're probably not feeling the best right now and that's OK! I went out to get us something for breakfast, and should be back home pretty soon. I understand if you don't want to talk about whatever last night was about, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you! Well, at least, I WILL be here for you. When I get back. But I'll bring breakfast!_

_XO, Jollllly_

 

Well, leave it to Joly to be unbearably cheerful in the face of his best friends killer hangover. At least he was supportive. And he'd be bringing home food.

In the exact moment that Grantaire thought the word “food”, he heard the distinct clicking sound of the front door opening and closing. A few moments after that, Joly popped his head into Grantaire's bedroom.

“Oh, good, you're up,” he said, smiling slightly when he noticed the slip of paper sitting in Grantaire's palm, “And you've read my note! Wonderful! Here, I'll bring the food in here and we can sit and eat on your bed together.”

Joly, wonderful Joly, managed to maintain the usual cheer and enthusiasm in his voice while lowering it's volume in sympathy for Grantaire's pounding head. He was the best friend a useless drunk like Grantaire could ever wish for.

Joly reappeared in Grantaire's room shortly, carrying a brown paper bag, who's contents he emptied out onto Grantaire's bed. Fresh, warm bagels, a small jar of honey, and assorted fresh fruit tumbled out onto the bedspread. When Grantaire looked up at him again, he had already gone out of the room and come back again with another glass and a pitcher of water.

Grantaire squinted and grimaced. Joly smiled.

The pair finished their small breakfast in silence, which Grantaire was thankful for, but after the food was gone and the paper bag folded up by Joly's side, Grantaire could tell that Joly wanted to say something. “What, Joly?” he finally asked.

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” Joly started, and Grantaire rolled his eyes, “But if you want to, could you maybe tell me what last night was about?”

Grantaire's mood which had been steadily improving since he'd woken up suddenly dropped again when he remembered. His attempt at connecting with Enjolras, the rejection, the cruel teasing, Enjolras' complete lack of faith that he could ever be worth anything at all. With a start, Grantaire realized he was crying again.

“Oh no I'm so sorry, R!” Joly said, seeming alarmed and concerned. “This isn't what I wanted to happen at all! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have just let it go.”

Grantaire looked up at Joly, determined. “No, J-joly, you did n-nothing w-wrong. Just g-give me a s-second o-okay?”  
“Of course, anything.” Joly said, as he scooted closer to Grantaire on the bed to wrap his short arms around him in a comforting gesture. Joly held him until his small sobs tapered off into sniffles, and then handed him a tissue.

“Hah. Always p-prepared, aren't you J-jollly?” Grantaire said, accepting the tissue and blowing his nose.

“Do you want to talk about it, R?” Joly asked, carefully, as if he was afraid that he'd make Grantaire start crying again.

“Y-yeah, sure, wh-why not?” Grantaire said, feigning nonchalance and fooling no one. Joly said nothing, only looked at Grantaire expectantly.

“I th-thought he m-might at least r-respect me a little b-bit,” Grantaire finally confessed, quietly, head bowed. “He s-seems to s-see the good in e-everybody. B-but I g-guess there's j-just no g-good in me.”

“Oh, no, R, what are you talking about? Of course there's good in you! What on earth happened between the two of you last night?” Joly exclaimed.

“I t-tried to offer to d-design the f-fliers, f-for the, for the p-protest, y-you know? But h-he just made f-fun of me and th-then told me I c-could d-design them if I w-want to, but th-that he doesn't th-think I'll be able to actually d-do it and be useful f-for once in m-my life.”

“What?! He teased you? Why would he do that? What did he say?”

“He j-just, y-you know, imitated me. M-my stutter.” Grantaire shrugged, but looked down at the bedspread.

“Wait,” Joly said, sounding as if he was on the verge of understanding something. “You think he was pretending to stutter to make fun of you?”

“Y-yeah,” Grantaire said, shrugging again, “I m-mean, what else c-could it be? I l-listen to him s-speak at the m-meetings every week, I kn-know he doesn't actually h-have a stutter.”

“Oh no R, I think this might all be a huge misunderstanding! I think you should go and talk to him again at the next meeting.”

“What d-do you m-mean?” Grantaire asked, very confused about this 180 turn that Joly's mood had taken.

“I _mean_ that Enjolras actually _has_ a stutter. He definitely wasn't mocking you, R.”

“But– the m-meetings?”

“He plans everything he has to say ahead of time and memorizes it, like a speech. But one on one, or on the spot, he stutters. He's really ashamed of it, actually, that's probably why you didn't know. But he definitely wasn't trying to tease you, R, he was just caught off guard.”

“You're s-sure?” Grantaire asked softly, looking up at Joly.

“Yes, I'm sure, of course I'm sure,” Joly said, embracing Grantaire again. “Just talk to him next week okay? And design those bad-ass fliers!”

Grantaire laughed weakly, but it was genuine. Maybe Joly was right. Maybe this was all some sort of strange misunderstanding. Maybe Enjolras– well– Enjolras obviously still didn't like him, he would have no reason to _like_ him, but at least Grantaire knows that Enjolras wouldn't be so cruel. So that was something at least. He'd just have to talk to him. Everything would be okay.

 

○○○

 

Grantaire arrived to the next meeting, a folder with the flier designs grasped tightly in his hand and every intention to talk to Enjolras after the meeting ended. He'd been going over what he wanted to say to him inside his head for the past week, but now that he was actually back in the same room as the beautiful revolutionary, all the carefully constructed thoughts seemed to erase themselves.

When the meeting ended, Joly elbowed him in the side and pointed his chin towards the front of the room where Enjolras sat, writing furiously on a yellow pad of paper. Grantaire looked down and sighed.

“You've gotta do it, R.” Joly said, shoving him lightly.

“I kn-know, Joly. It's j-just– easier said th-than done, r-right?”

“I know, R.” Joly said, with a sympathetic smile.

“Okay okay, h-here goes n-nothing,” he sighed, and pushed himself to his feet, one hand still curled protectively around the folder, and started walking over to the other side of the room. He looked back at Joly one more time, and Joly gave him two thumbs up, which gave him the small but completely necessary boost of confidence that he needed to take the last few steps over to where Enjolras sat.

“H-hey, Enjolras?” Grantaire said, unsure and nervous.

Enjolras spun around to look at him. “What do you w-want this time, _Grantaire_?” he asked, forcefully.

Doing his best to not be deterred, Grantaire jumped right into what he had to say. “I have s-some of the f-flier designs here in this folder,” he said, and tried not to get offended when Enjolras looked surprised, as if he really didn't think that Grantaire would pull through and do it. Enjolras started reaching towards the folder, but Grantaire pulled it away and quickly said, “B-but I think w-we should talk first. I th-think we've been having a m-misunderstanding.”

Enjolras looked confused and perhaps a bit frustrated at that. Or maybe he was always a little frustrated at everything. He made a small motion with his head as if to say, “Go on.”

Grantaire took a deep breath.“I k-know you don't l-like me, but l-last time we t-talked, l-last week, I went home th-thinking that you were m-mocking me. Joly t-told me I m-misunderstood, and that we should t-talk, so h-here I am.”

All of a sudden, Enjolras became extremely angry. “W-what? You thought _I_ was m-mocking _you_?! _You're_ th-the one who mocks me p-publicly, every w-week, in front of m-my own friends! Y-you come in here and d-do nothing but d-drink and m-make a j-joke out of m-my optimism and m-my goals and m-my goddamn _stutter_!” As he spoke his voice got louder and louder, and by the time he was done speaking, the whole room was silent.

Grantaire just stood still in shock, unsure if what he was hearing could be true. Enjolras thought that Grantaire had been making fun of him this whole time? But– well, it kind of made sense. It explained why Enjolras seemed to hate him so much. Joly was right all along, this was just a huge misunderstanding.

Grantaire looked into Enjolras's eyes and tried to find the words to explain this whole mess to Enjolras, but before he could even open his mouth, Enjolras roughly swiped all of his papers off of the table and left the room. Everyone was silent.

Joly seemed to appear out of nowhere, next to Grantaire and softly said, “You should go after him, R.”

Joly was right, of course, Grantaire still had lots to say and lots to explain. He nodded, looked around the room once more to see the still-shocked faces of his friends, and then hurried out the door and down the stairs after Enjolras.

It didn't take long for Grantaire to find Enjolras. He was pacing back in forth in front of the fountain in the park, his bundle of loose paper clutched tightly in his arms. Grantaire approached him, carefully, almost afraid he'd run away again.

“Enjolras?” He asked, voice as even and careful as he could manage.

Enjolras whipped around towards him. His expression was angry, at first, then surprised, then angry again. “W-what the hell, Grantaire?”

“I th-think we need to talk, Enjolras,” Grantaire replied.

“Our friends aren't h-here, Grantaire, there's n-no need to mock me without y-your audience around,” Enjolras spat out, his spite evident in both his voice and his facial expression.

Grantaire took a breath and opened his mouth to start explaining to Enjolras how _wrong_ they both had been about the situation, but Enjolras cut him off before he could even start. “This is p-probably what you w-wanted all along, isn't it? Y-you don't even have t-to _try_ to mock me anymore, n-now I've m-made a joke out of myself in f-front of everyone I c-care about, and it's all y-your damn f-fault. G-god, I love Joly, b-but I wish he'd never b-brought you to that f-first meeting. Sometimes I w-wish that–”

“ _ENJOLRAS!_ ” Grantaire yelled, cutting off Enjolras' increasingly loud rant. When Grantaire realized he finally actually had Enjolras' attention, he took a deep breath. “It's a-all a misunderstanding, okay?”

Enjolras tipped his head slightly to the side, obviously still upset by the look on his face, but he hadn't interrupted Grantaire to start yelling again, so Grantaire took that as a good sign and a cue to continue speaking. “I've have _not_ b-been making fun of your stutter. I d-didn't even know you _had_ one. And even if I d-did know, I would n-never make fun of y-you for that sort of thing!”

“B-but then why–?” Enjolras started, but then realization seemed to dawn on his face. “Oh. On m-my god. You actually j-just have a stutter too, don't you?”

Grantaire nodded.

Enjolras groaned and dropped his head into his hands, “Oh my g-god I'm so s-sorry.”

Grantaire hesitated slightly before placing a reassuring hand on Enjolras' shoulder and saying, “It's okay, all is f-forgiven, you know? Joly w-was right about this all being a big m-misunderstanding. And d-don't worry about your r-reputation in the group, they all l-love and respect you, this won't r-ruin anything at all.”

“I've been so m-mean to you all this time and it t-turns out it was all for n-no reason at all,” Enjolras said, looking up at Grantaire, a vaguely horrified expression on his face. “I d-didn't really mean those things I said, I p-promise, I only–”

“It's okay, Enjolras, all is f-forgiven, alright?”

“Alright,” agreed, looking up at Grantaire with a weak smile.

Surprised, Grantaire smiled back. Their smiles grew into grins which devolved into giggles as they both stared at each other, thinking about how ignorant and idiotic they both had been.

As their laughter faded into a slightly awkward yet slightly comfortable silence, Grantaire remembered the folder in his hand and the project that had been the catalyst of the whole cascade of events. “So, um,” Grantaire started, but stopped as Enjolras looked into his eyes with kindness and anticipation for the first time. His very own Apollo deigning to look upon him with feelings other than the disgust he deserved. Enjolras made a small movement with his head as if to ask him to continue speaking, so he did. “Do you w-want to see my flier d-designs now?”

Enjolras grinned, and for the first time, Grantaire had the fleeting thought that maybe, _maybe_ he could be worth something to Enjolras after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading that^  
> pls leave me a comment. it doesn't have to be related to anything. you could even leave a fake email address it doesn't matter ok i just really want to hear from someone


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